


How to touch a man's muscles without looking gay

by I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geraskier, M/M, No Smut, Pining, Thirsty Jaskier, humour? Am I funny? I don't know, idiots being idiots, not sure if it counts as pining, oblivious idiots, stupid plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee/pseuds/I_bite_my_thumb_at_thee
Summary: The title says it all.Geralt’s lips twitches upwards a tiny bit. “Then why are you still out here giving me a motivational speech I don’t need?”Jaskier’s mouth opens and closes, trying to find the right way of not saying Oh, you know, I just wanted to take the opportunity to feel those gorgeous muscles of yours.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 165





	How to touch a man's muscles without looking gay

**Author's Note:**

> Based on what I thought was the title to a wiki how article. I am still disappointed that it isn't a real article.

Jaskier has a mission. Nay, an important goal in life. He is going to feel Geralt’s muscles if it is the last thing he’ll do. Surely, it can’t be that hard to accomplish this noblest of goals. He has charmed his way into many a bed before. How hard can it be to convince Geralt to let him touch him a little? 

Turns out, it is very hard. Not necessarily the touching itself – Geralt enjoys a nice friendly massage from his friend that is completely on friendly terms, with nothing but friendship in mind – but how on earth is Jaskier supposed to hide the fact that he may or may not feel something other for Geralt?

Massages are great, but Jaskier’s fingers twitch to feel his muscles in action. And his supply of the chamomile oil he had bought in Novigrad is quickly running low and that stuff was expensive. 

Jaskier needs a plan. Somehow he will find a way to feel Geralt’s muscles without revealing that he was a bit more than just friendly with Geralt. 

\--

“Listen, Geralt, you’ve got this.” Jaskier’s hands are clutched tightly around Geralt’s upper arms. “You are a witcher. A little feast like that is not going to intimidate you.”

Geralt’s eyebrows knit together. “Jaskier-“

“You just have to believe in yourself.” He gives the muscles a little squeeze and oh they are even harder than he had imagined. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls again and naturally, Jaskier ignores him. 

“You are already dressed up – rather nicely might I say. You’re welcome by the way for the clothes – you cannot run from this now.” He lets go of one arm and pats Geralt on the shoulders, sucking in a sharp breath. He definitely needs to find more excuses to touch those. “You just have to go in there and face those nobles like you would any other threat.”

“I have been ready to go in there for the past five minutes,” Geralt says with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t shrug Jaskier’s hands off though. Jaskier counts that as a definite win. “You are the one delaying this. Are you nervous?”

Jaskier snorts. “Me? Absolutely not. I have been looking forward to performing here.”

Geralt’s lips twitches upwards a tiny bit. “Then why are you still out here giving me a motivational speech I don’t need?”

Jaskier’s mouth opens and closes, trying to find the right way of not saying _Oh, you know, I just wanted to take the opportunity to feel those gorgeous muscles of yours._

Geralt thankfully misinterprets the embarrassed noises leaving his mouth. “So you are scared after all.” 

“I, well, that’s…. true.” 

“I’m not going to give you a motivational speech.” Geralt smirks, nodding his head in the direction of the hall, where people in fancy clothes are already waiting for music. “Come on then.”

Geralt makes to leave, when Jaskier calls out for him in once last-ditch attempt to be close to him for a little longer. 

“It’s a formal event,” he blurts, mind racing with stupid ideas. “You are my plus one, so you’ll have to offer me your arm.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the nobles, none of which are walking arm in arm. Still, Geralt holds out his arm for Jaskier to take. Jaskier takes the invitation with a grin and the feeling that the first step of his plan was a thorough success. 

\--

“Say, what do you think about expanding my performance a bit?” Jaskier asks and if his words are already a bit slurred from the alcohol, then there is no one around to judge. At least no one sober.

“Hmm?” 

That is unfair. How is Jaskier supposed to know if Geralt’s speech is just as warped as his, when he doesn’t even open his mouth?

“You know,” Jaskier said. “Expanding.” He spreads his arms, _accidentally_ hitting Geralt in the chest. Nice. 

“How?”

Jaskier can see the instant regret in Geralt’s eyes, when Jaskier stands up on wobbly feet, doing his best to drag Geralt with him. It doesn’t work. Damn those muscles. But also, thank the gods for those muscles. 

“With a performance.” He makes a grand gesture and if he has to hold on to Geralt for stability then who can fault him? “Do you want to see what I have in mind?”

“No –“

_“Here’s my epic tale_

__

__

_Our champion prevailed!”_

At the last words, Jaskier grabs Geralt’s forearm, exposed by the rolled up sleeves, and lifts the arm high in the air like he had seen the athletes in Oxenfurt do whenever they won something. It had always looked stupid, but now, feeling Geralt’s muscles tense under his fingers as he clenches his fist, he suddenly understands the appeal. 

“Performance of the year,” Geralt says flatly, when Jaskier finally lets go of his arm. 

“Thank you so much, dear. Your praise means a lot.” He winks at Great. “And since you are so taken with this performance, I have even more suggestions.”

Geralt groans.

“I have always thought that you should add a little choreography for _He thrust every-_ “

Geralt gets up and turns to leave before Jaskier can finish the sentence. “That’s it, you’re too drunk.”

“Maybe so,” Jaskier says with a grin. “But you, my dear witcher are blushing.”

\--

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jaskier says and moves around Geralt to stand in his way, hands on his hips. 

“Going on a hunt.”

“Like that? Your armour is completely loose” Jaskier gestures to the armour that is very much not lose. In fact, it looks as perfect as ever. “You’ll have to tighten it or it’ll fall off mid fight. Here, I’ll just...“

„What are you doing?“ Geralt asks when Jaskier steps closer, but he doesn’t move back when Jaskier reaches for his shoulder pads. 

“I’m tightening them.” Jaskier loosens them, only to tighten them again. The more time spend like this the better. “Making sure they won’t come loose.” 

His hands trail over Geralt’s chest plate to his abs. 

Geralt grunts. “I know how to put my armour on correctly.” 

He still doesn’t push Jaskier away, but Jaskier can feel his eyes burning into him, as his hands linger on Geralt’s abdomen. He can’t really feel anything through the leather, but maybe if he presses against him for long enough, the abs might start imprinting on the armour. It’s a stupid though, but a man can dream. 

\--

“Jaskier, get up.”

Geralt nudges him and Jaskier forces himself not to react. This was a brilliant plan. Foolproof, even. 

“Come on, you have to get to bed.” 

Oh, yes. But Jaskier isn’t going to walk up the stairs of the inn himself. He does his best to imitate the deep breaths of sleep, his head resting on his arms on the table. 

“Jaskier.”

He pretends to snore a little, just for good measure. Maybe Geralt will finally get the hint that he is supposed to carry him in his arms, because surely, he can’t be cruel enough to wake a sleeping man. 

Geralt huffed. “Fine.”

Jaskier felt Geralt move up from the bench. Jaskier opens an eye a tiny bit, to see Geralt reach for him. Ha! Victory is his! 

Geralt carefully lifts him up – and throws him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

If Jaskier wasn’t so hellbent on getting carried by Geralt, he would voice his indignation. How dare Geralt turn what could have been a wholesome and sexy experience into this! The audacity!

On the other hand, this might not be the most comfortable way to get carried up the stairs, but it certainly allowes a great view on Geralt’s lovely behind. 

Once in their room, Geralt sets Jaskier down on the bed, steadying him with a hand to guide him down gently in a lying position. 

Jaskier keeps his eyes tightly shut. This is going wonderfully! He can’t believe he actually managed to fool Geralt! Oh, he is absolutely going to pretend to be asleep more often. 

Geralt lifts the blanked over him and Jaskier can feel him lean in closer, until his breath ghosts over the shell of his ear. Jaskier’s heart flutters. 

“You know I can hear your heartbeat. It’s way too fast for you to be asleep.” Jaskier can practically hear the smirk in his voice, but he still refuses to open his eyes. Maybe, if he just keeps on pretending, he can save his dignity. “Also, you were giggling the whole way up the stairs.”

\--

Jaskier watches the fight with held breath. He has seen Geralt fight humans and monsters before. But seeing him spar with another witcher is something entirely different. What would Jaskier give to still live in a time when fighters didn’t wear armour in their sparring but instead rubbed oil all over their muscles to make them gleam in the sunlight? Jaskier would gladly give the little he had left of his chamomile oil to see that. Well, maybe not in winter in the witchers’ keep where it took forever to get warm. 

Geralt finally manages to get Eskel in a choke hold and Eskel surrenders. 

“Since when is he such a show-off?” 

Jaskier turns to Lambert, who is standing next to him with crossed arms and a mocking grin on his lips. 

“What do you mean?”

Lambert snorts. “Nothing, songbird. Just that Geralt seems to care awfully lot about looking stronger than Eskel and me ever since you came here. It’s almost like that moron is showing off.”

A smirk spreads across Jaskier’s face. “Oh is that so?”

He turns back to Geralt, who is coincidentally looking in their direction with a scowl. 

“Time to test your theory.” Jaskier winks at Lambert, before shouting in Geralt’s direction. “You think you’re so strong, don’t you?” 

Lambert snickers and Eskel and Geralt only stare at him as though he just said the stupidest thing. Which he did.

“What?” Geralt says and his eyes dart between Lambert and Jaskier. 

“I mean” Jaskier gesticulates helplessly at Geralt. “You have this strong man persona. But are you actually strong? I bet you couldn’t – just an example at the top of my head – pick me up.”

Jaskier holds his breath as Geralt walks closer. He is going to do it! He is going to lift Jaskier!

And he walks right past. 

“Hey, what are you-“ Lambert’s protests are interrupted by Geralt lifting him up and throwing him into the snow. 

He turns to Jaskier with a lifted eyebrow. “That strong enough for you?”

\--

This is it. He can’t do this anymore. It has been a month since Jaskier ran out of chamomile oil and the massages just haven’t been the same since. They are still great, of course, but now he doesn’t have the excuse of “Oh, Geralt, we can’t stop just yet. The oil still has to… absorb into your skin” anymore. To be honest, Jaskier isn’t even sure if that’s a thing oil does, but Geralt doesn’t need to know that. 

The point is that Jaskier is touch-starved. 

He is getting desperate. 

Maybe he could try to teach Geralt how to play the lute, if only so that he could stand behind him, lay his arms around Geralt’s body – if he could even reach that far – and guide his fingers while his chest presses against Geralt’s broad back.

A dreamy sigh escapes Jakier’s mouth, at the image. It hitches, when a terrifying thought pops into his head unbidden. Geralt would probably crush his precious lute with his huge muscles. As sexy, as that would undoubtedly look, Jaskier can’t lose his lute to his raging desire to touch Geralt. Jaskier is desperate, but not _that_ desperate. Not yet. 

However ... 

“Hey,” he calls out to Geralt, who is sitting on a fallen tree, sharpening his sword. “Don’t you think it’s time I learn how to fight?”

Geralt stares at him blankly. “Since when do you want to fight?” 

“Well, um, since, you know..” Jaskier stutters. “There are angry spouses and um.. monsters and...” 

“And I always protect you from them, don’t I?” Something twitches in Geralt’s jaw. 

“Well, yes, of course you do,” Jaskier says, scratching his head doing his best to come up with an excuse. “But when we part ways again…” he trails of. That is not the kind of thing he wants to think about right now. Or ever, really. 

Geralt frowns and stopps working on his sword to look up at Jaskier instead. There is something hesitant in his eyes. “You want to leave?”

“No!” Jaskier says so quickly it might be considered embarrassing. 

Geralt huffs and it sounds almost fond. “Then I guess there’s no need for you to learn just yet.”

“Are you saying you like having to save my pretty arse every other day?” Geralt resumes his work with a grunt. It is probably supposed to look dismissive, but Jaskier can’t help but feel like Geralt is trying to hide a blush behind the hair falling in front of his face. Jaskier leans forward a bit. “You do like it! Admit it, that’s the reason you don’t want to teach me.”

“Piss off, bard,” Geralt grumbles, but Jakier is now sure that the tips of Geralt’s ears are turning a lovely shade of pink. Interesting. 

Jaskier might not have achieved his goal for the day, but he certainly isn’t complaining about this development. A new plan is already forming in his mind. His most brilliant plan yet.

\--

“I am begging you, Priscilla, you have to help me. This is a matter of life and death.”

The girls lifts an eyebrow. “Yes, it is. But not because you are going to get your heart broken, but because your bones will break if you jump out of that window.”

“That’s exactly the point,” Jaskier says, brimming with excitement. “Geralt won’t let that happen. I am sure of it. He said he likes protecting me!”

“Oh did he now?”

“Well…” Jaskier rubs his neck. “Not in so many words, but he implied it.” 

“Uh-huh.” She crosses her arms. 

“Please! Priscilla. Dearest. My best friend and sun of my life. The most talented performer I know. Except for me, of course.” Priscilla snorts at his words, but the grin says that he is well on his way to winning her over. “All of those years of you studying acting have led to this glorious moment. The most important performance of your life.”

“Flattery will not always work, you know?” She says, but sighs in defeat. “But fine. I will play along.”

Jaskier beams and hugs her close. She swats him away. 

“Alright,” Jaskier says and rubs his hands together in excitement. “we don’t have time to rehearse. Just improvise. Geralt will be back from the market any moment.”

“What is he doing there anyway?”

Jaskier shrugs. “I don’t know. Buying something very important, apparently. He was quite adamant about going to the Novigrad market as soon as possible.” 

Priscilla doesn’t answer, but her brows lift as she looks out of the window. “Is that him?” 

Jaskier sprints over to her and his heart starts pounding. It’s now or never. 

“I think I understand you now,” she says with an appreciative whistle. “Who wouldn’t jump out of a window for this man?”

She winks. And in the blink of an eye she is in character. 

“Jaskier, you croaking pheasant!” she shrieks. “Get your sorry arse out of here!”

Jaskier inches closer to the window and looks down to see if Geralt was close enough to catch him yet. Not quite. 

“There is a misunderstanding. I didn’t-“

“The only misunderstanding here is the size of your dick!” Jaskier gapes. Priscilla’s eyes twinkle. She is having far too much fun with this. 

“Now, there’s no reason to –“

“Tell that to someone else!”

Another look down. Geralt is still standing a few feet away from where he would land, but he was looking up at him. This is it. Jaskier sends one last look at Priscilla who is grinning at him, before he jumps.

The air rushes past him, ruffling his hair. 

And then he is caught, strong arms wrapping around him as Geralt _finally_ holds him bridal style. Jaskier can finally feel the strength of those biceps. He finally knows what it feels like to be pressed against that chest. 

“I did it! I actually did it!”

The euphoria rushing through him vanishes as soon as he meets Geralt’s eyes. He freezes. 

“Oh Fuck.”

From up above he can hear Priscilla snicker and what sounds like a smack against a forehead. But all he can focus on is Geralt. 

“I swear I did not mean to say that.”

Geralt’s mouth twitches. “I gathered that much.”

Jaskier’s heart skips a beat. It doesn’t sound like Geralt is angry. At least a small mercy. Now he is only left with the embarrassment of having to explain himself. All while still being held in Geralt’s arms. This is not how he had planned this. 

“I…” he sighs. Even as a master poet, there is no way he can find a believable excuse for this. He closes his eyes. “This is going to sound stupid. But I may or may not have wanted to be carried by you like this for a long time.” See, that wasn’t so bad. Now all he has to do is shut up. “Actually, I just really wanted to feel your muscles and this seemed like the best way. But really, any way would be great.”

This is it. The moment that Geralt is going to drop him like a cat, except that Jaskier will not gracefully land on his feet, but on the earth that will hopefully swallow him whole so that no one can witness is shame. 

Instead the arms around him tighten. 

“Should we have gone to Novigrad sooner then?” Geralt ask.

Jaskier blinks. “Sorry, what does what I just said have anything to do with us coming here? That was your idea not mine. It was a happy coincidence that my friend was here to help me.”

Geralt starts shaking slightly and it takes Jaskier a moment to realise that what’s wrecking Geralt’s body is silent laughter. 

“My breast pocket,” Geralt says and there is a glint in his eyes. 

Jaskier hesitates for a second, before reaching into the pocket. His fingers find something cool and smooth.  
With furrowed brows he pulls the small bottle out. His eyes snap to Geralt.

“I am sorry, but I need you to spell this out for me. Why exactly is this the reason why you needed to go to the market so urgently?”

Geralt looks almost sheepish. “You always say that you prefer massaging me with the oil and I … I like it when you touch me.”

Jaskier gapes at him. “Are you” he stabs a finger at Geralt’s wonderfully firm chest. “seriously telling me that all this time I could have just _asked_ to touch you?”

“Sure, you could have asked.” Geralt’s grin comes back in full force and that glint turns mischievous. “But watching you come up with all those stupid plans to touch me was just so much fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> You must have some review for me. Three words or less. (Or more. I'm not picky ;) )


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